


Here, There, And Everywhere

by RingosLiverpool8



Category: Doctor Who, The Beatles
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingosLiverpool8/pseuds/RingosLiverpool8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TARDIS is spinning out of control. Amy and Rory have just dematerialized out of the TARDIS and The Doctor doesn't know why, where, when, or who. All he knows is he needs help and he'll find it in the unlikeliest of heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. I'm nervous about posting it but my lovely cousin convinced me to. I'm American, so please excuse my poor excuse for British colloquialisms. Please comment if you find any mistakes or just general wrongness. Thanks bunches! and enjoy! I'll be posting as much as I can. The prologue/first chapter is short. They'll be longer after this. Promise.

It just started spinning. No warning, no signs, nothing. The Doctor worried. He worried about the TARDIS, but most of all, he worried about Amy and Rory. They up and disappeared right from the center console with not a trace left of them. The Doctor flipped this lever and that, pressing buttons everywhere just trying to stop the spinning. Of course he could consult the manual, but hell, he burned that a thousand years ago, literally. He could kick himself for that, but now wasn’t the time to do that. He needed to land…and quick. The engines couldn’t handle the stress the movement put on them. The Doctor’s stomach couldn’t handle the movements either.

The TARDIS shook and rocked as the exterior suddenly caught fire. At least the spinning has stopped, The Doctor thought to himself. He continued to pull on the flashy things and kick the random pedals on the floor of the control panel. The Doctor knew he was going to crash and, boy, was he upset. A brand new TARDIS interface and he was going to crash it. He sighed and gave up, letting his mind wander to the Ponds. He didn’t have a clue where they’d dematerialized to. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know how. Most importantly, he didn’t know who. He needed help and wherever he crash landed would determine who helped him. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be an enemy planet. The Doctor buckled himself in, preparing for the worst. He closed his eyes as the TARDIS hit the ground with a soft _thud._

“Really?” The Doctor asked himself and patted his TARDIS lovingly, “You’re such a drama queen. Let’s go see where we are.” Before exiting his overly dramatic TARDIS, he made sure everything still worked like it should. The TARDIS buzzed and whirred with excitement as The Doctor mentally declared everything in working order. He straightened his red bowtie and dusted off his jacket. With a snap of his suspenders he strutted out the doors, not fully expecting to be where he was and who he was looking at.


	2. Nowhere Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two. And The Beatles. Feel free to comment. :)

“If we have to do another seven hours, I think I might jump off the roof.” I said to no one in particular, but leave it to Paul ‘Perfect’ McCartney to answer me anyway. I say this because he is, god dammit. He looks perfect, sounds perfect, and plays perfect. The stupid git. He’s got these wide, doe eyes which honestly, can make anyone shaky in the knees. Don’t tell anyone, but it’s happened to me… multiple times. ‘Cause, as I’ve said before, if Paul was a bird, we’d be like rabbits. I’ll settle as a best mate though.

              “Come off it, John, we’re almost done.” Even the way he answered made me want to push him off the roof instead of me jumping. But I can’t blame him. I’ve been complaining. A lot. Paul’s put up with it like he always does. I gotta respect him for that you know? But _God_ , he sounds like my aunt.

              “You’re a bastard, Paul.” I retorted, trying my best not to sound too harsh, but I’m tired. This damn film ( _A Hard Day’s Night_ , out in theaters soon. You should see it.) has killed us. The director, Richard Lester, has pushed us seven hours a day for three days straight. I think this might be the worst idea our manager has had, really. A Beatles feature film. Not only do those crazy fans get to hear us, they even get to see us! I can already hear the screaming. I’m getting a headache.

              “Eloquent, John. Really.” Paul retorted with a crinkle of his nose and, I swear to God, an eye-roll so hard you could feel it in China. He, of course, finished with his famous bitch-face.

              “Hey, at least it’d be an interesting end to the film!” Ringo added. Bless him. Ever the class clown.

              “Not helping, Ringo!” Paul snapped. Paul’s on edge too. I can feel it. An angry Paul isn’t a fun thing. He’s got this naturally sweet disposition and his personality is lovely…git. He’s typically the optimist of the group (I’m more of a pessimist. Opposites attract, I guess.), and when he’s pissed, he’s really pissed.

              “Maybe if we hide, Dick and Brian won’t be able to find us.” George offered. Yes, George Harrison, the kid. I mean he is 21 so not really a kid anymore, but he’s at least two years younger than me and almost three years younger than Ringo.

              “Dick and Brian…” I snickered. I just couldn’t help it. God, George, you had to put those two words together in a sentence. For clarification, Brian Epstein’s our manager. He’s gay. We don’t mind, really, but the government seems to. It’s stupid, really, it’s only love. Hmm, I should write a song. I’ll ask Paul later.

              “Really, John?” Paul asked quite aggravated. He never appreciates my jokes.

              “What? He said it!” I pointed to George. It _was_ funny. Even George and Ringo laughed.

              "Anyways, it’s a good plan. But we gotta be smart, you know? I think Brian can sniff us out now.” Paul ignored me. The bastard. He’s right, though. We can’t just hide anywhere.

              “I think I’d like to go somewhere with food, preferably.” George added. Ever the surprise, George is hungry. He’s like a bottomless pit. I don’t know where he puts the copious amounts of alcohol as well as the thousands of calories of food he intakes every day. You’d think he was starving.

“That’s where he’d look first George.” Ringo reasoned. I gotta hand it to Rings, he can be the voice of reason sometimes.

“We have to go somewhere. I’m going crazy sitting in this dressing room.” I complained. Again. Paul’s just given me a look that could make my Aunt Mimi proud. Don’t believe me, eh? She’s a hard woman. Growing up sucked with her, she wasn’t very fuzzy-wuzzy. Ever, in fact. I still love her though. Go ahead, let’s hear it for Johnny. _Awww._

“Then how about you, oh fearless leader, figure it out?” Paul said sarcastically. Ouch, Paulie, ouch.

“No need to be sassy with me, McCharmly. I’m thinking.” I really am thinking, but I’ve got nothing. Paul crinkled his nose and turned away. Oops, I’ve pissed him off again.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Lennon.” Paul sneered. I squinted my eyes at him, trying to look menacing. I just ended up getting an earful of laughter from Ringo and George who muttered something about me wearing my glasses. I can’t see. Period. I hate wearing my glasses. They make me look stupid. Paul says that they don’t, that he likes them. I appreciate it, but I don’t believe him. And John Lennon is many things, but stupid isn’t one of ‘em. No matter what the others say.

“Well, while Johnny’s wheels are turnin’, why don’t we do something?” Ringo offered. Ringo’s really something isn’t he?

“Like what?” Paul asked a little nicer. He can’t stay mad. It’s against his nature.

“Like find food?” George hoped. I gotta say, I’m pretty hungry, too.

“Sure, I guess. I was suggesting we play some cards.” Ringo replied a little depressed. He liked kicking our asses. He gets off on it.

“I’m not losing anything else to you, Richard Starkey.” I stated. He nearly took fourteen pounds off me yesterday. The bastard, he just shrugged.

“Let’s get food. I wouldn’t mind some tea.” Paul suggested. He looked mainly at George whose grin spread from ear to ear. I nodded in agreement. We could figure this escape stuff out later. I watched George and Ringo stand up and turn towards the door. They were talking about something. I wasn’t listening. I wanted to talk to Paul.

“Hey, Paulie. You know I didn’t mean anything, right? I’m just a little tired, is all.” I hoped I sounded sincere. I felt it. I did feel bad for pissing him off.

“Yeah, we’re ok, John. I’m tired too and angry. I’m hoping a little bite of something will help.” Paul answered. Good, back to normal. Kind of. He sounds depressed almost. A depressed McCartney is worse than an angry one. I’ll buy him a drink. No, probably not a good idea. Alcohol and depression don’t mix. Trust me, I know.

“Are you two coming or not?” George demanded. Kid’s getting brazen. Makes me sorta proud. I had a perfectly smart-ass response to give his smug little face, but something weird started to happen. The wind picked up. Inside. A room. With no windows. This God awful sound accompanied it. Sounded like someone (not me, I’m a perfectly good driver, thank you very much, Paul) is driving with their foot on the gas and the accelerator pressing them at the same time.

Slowly something started to appear in the corner of the dressing room. I looked to Paul, then to Ringo and George. They were just as stunned and as frightened as I was. The appearing thing looked like a police box? What? I’m secretly a coward. I cowered behind Paul. Police boxes should not be in dressing rooms on movie sets. If that wasn’t enough, the doors fucking opened.


	3. I'm Only Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three. Feel free to comment.

Oh God, someone is coming out of that damn box. I’m dreaming. I am at home and I am dreaming. It’s a man? A man stepped out of the police box but he definitely wasn’t a policeman. He wore brown slacks with brown boots and suspenders. His top half adorned a white shirt with a tweed jacket and a red bowtie. A fashion disaster in my opinion. He honestly didn’t look much older than Brian. Thirties maybe?

              He looked as shocked as I am, as we are. His eyes switched between us four multiple times before landing on me. He looked almost… star struck. I really shouldn’t be surprised. We are the biggest band in England. Hell, the biggest band in the world. But this was different. The man also looked as if he shouldn’t be here. He looked, well, out of time. His clothes certainly suggested it. Definitely not the fashion of the ‘60s. I couldn’t help but look into his eyes. Windows to the soul, you know. It was something strange. Wise, old, knowing, and what was that? Guilt? Anyway, that’s what I would use to describe that experience. Shit. He was still looking at me. So was everyone else. I’m still hiding behind Paul.

“Err, can I help you?” I asked knowing full well my voice gave away my fear. I guess hiding behind your best mate is a dead giveaway too. However, George and Ringo weren’t doing much better. George’d practically jumped into Ringo’s arms. I don’t blame him. I would’ve jumped on Paul if I hadn’t been so bloody proud.

“You can’t be…this…your timeline is time locked! I shouldn’t even be allowed to be here!” The strange man approached us much too quickly. I gave in. I hugged Paul. He’s soft.

The man turned back around and whispered to the box, “Why’d you bring me here, old girl?” He’s crazy. I still haven’t let go of Paul.

“Who…err…who are you?” I heard Paul ask through labored breathing. Brave soul. I’m still not letting go.

“The Doctor.” The man replied nonchalantly while examining the exterior of the box. ‘The Doctor’? What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?

“Doctor who?” I called from the safety of Paul’s back. I swear, this man is crazy. I felt Paul stiffen and George let out a little whimper. ‘The Doctor’ _laughed._

“That’s really the question isn’t it, Mr. Lennon?” My whole throat tightened up just then. I felt I almost couldn’t respond. Almost.

“How do you know my name?” I take back what I said earlier. I am stupid. I’m a Beatle. I’m a celebrity. Of course he knows my fucking name. Paul scoffed. I heard him… asshole.

“John Winston Lennon. Born 9th October, 1940, Liverpool. Died… Oops. Sorry. Forget I said anything! You don’t need to know. You can’t know. Stupid! Stupid!” Died?! What? No, no, crazy box man. You don’t get to do that.

“Hang on, died? I’m only 24, mate!” I need an explanation and he better give it to me.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. You can’t know when you die. It’ll destroy time and space! Especially you, John Lennon. As I said, your timeline is locked. I shouldn’t even be speaking to you. But for some reason, I’m here.” The Doctor, as he calls himself, plopped down on one of the chairs in the room. I feel a bit sorry for the crazy bloke. He does look worried. But, I still don’t have my answer. By the way, Paul’s pushed me off. A bit rude if you ask me.

“I don’t care about the date. All I care about is how you _know_.” That’s what bothers me. For sure. Everyone’s gotta die sometime.

“Well. I guess I’m here. You’ve obviously seen a lot. I’m a time traveler. An alien, if you must. I really am just called The Doctor. I’m over a thousand years old. I’m a Time Lord and that box is my spaceship-slash-time machine, TARDIS: time and relative dimension in space.” You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. I was way off, nowhere near thirty years old. I had to look around. Good. Everyone else is stunned too. George finally unwrapped himself from Ringo. Paul just stood there like an idiot with his mouth open.

“An alien, huh? And that’s your spaceship?” Ringo inquired suddenly. Is it just me or does Ringo sound like he believes this crazy guy?

The time traveler looked at his hands. “I don’t blame you for being skeptical. It’s 196…4?” Of course it’s 1964 you daft git! I wanted to shout it. I really did. After all, he’s the one who claimed to be a time traveler.

“As much as I want to believe you, mate – because aliens are really gear – It’s a tad hard. I hope you understand.” Ringo sympathized. I’m telling you, voice of reason. Sometimes he even rivals Paul in people pleasing and Paul’s an ass kisser.

The Doctor smiled brightly. “No, no, Mr. Starkey. I have proof, as you say. I’m actually trying to find my friends, and, well, I need help. Seeing as you’re my only option, I need you to come with me.” For once, I have nothing to say.

Paul finally spoke. “Wait. You want us to come with you? In that box? That little box?” I looked back at George who somehow turned white as a sheet. It’s either from hunger or he’s just shit himself.

“It’s bigger on the inside, Sir Paul McCartney.” The Doctor winked at him. Sir? _Sir_ Paul McCartney? All I got was a ‘mister’. That’s favoritism, crazy man. I’m not sure I like that.

“How come he gets a ‘sir’ and all we get is ‘mister’?” I just had to ask. I’m an ass. I know it and the look from Paul also let me know it.

“Ohhh,” the Doctor groaned, “I’ve really got to stop. I guess this little bit of information won’t hurt anything. Paul is knighted in the future.” Paul? No fucking way. He’s even charmed the Queen! I snorted. Paul glared. I’ll accept it.

“Are we…are we going in that…that thing?” George finally squeaked from the back of the room. Yep. He’s soiled his best suit. Well, not his best, but you get it.

“Why not, George?” I asked poking fun at his absolute misery. Besides that, I did kind of want to go. Just to get away from being a Beatle for a while. I could use it. So could the other three.

“…Safe?” is all George managed to get out. Poor thing.

The Doctor jumped up rather excitedly from his seat on the chair. “Oh, she’s perfectly safe, Mr. Harrison! Come on! We’ve got to get going. That is if you’re coming?” Okay, I admit I feel like a child. I am so damn excited to get on a spaceship. A proper alien, well he’s not green but I’ll live.

Ringo stepped by me, he is just as excited as I am and I think Paul is too. We’re all thinking the same thing. We can get away from Brian, from the fans, from the screaming. It’s a dream come true.

“As long as there’s food.” Leave it to George. I’m tellin ya. We all laugh and drag him forward. The doctor snapped his fingers opening the doors of – what did he call it? Right – TARDIS. And oh my God.


	4. I Should Have Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is a little boring.... I think. I guess I should say this is all fiction and I own nothing except the original characters and the story line. The Beatles and Doctor Who aren't mine. Comment if you want to.

When The Doctor said ‘bigger on the inside’, he wasn’t kidding. We really did step onto a spaceship. In every sense of the word. There were blinking lights and wires and levers and even these little circular things on the walls. Paul stepped back out just to check the outside walls again. The Doctor mentioned something about Time Lord technology. I had honestly stopped listening. It didn’t make much sense anyway. I did have questions, but I suppose they could wait. The Doctor seemed in a hurry to get his friends back. He mumbled to himself flipping switches and fumbling with knobs. I thought I was a spaz. 

I walked over to where The Doctor stood. “So these friends of yours, who are they?” He really did seem nervous.  
“Amy and Rory Pond. Humans, like yourselves but from 2012. Though I’m not sure the five of us are going to be enough. Anybody clever enough to pluck someone right out of the TARDIS is pretty powerful. I might need one more person.” We might not be enough? That’s a little unsettling. Only one more though? Why not a whole fucking army? I understand that George, Paul, Ringo, and I aren’t exactly in pristine shape but we can hold our own. Just ask Ringo. 

“Another person?” Paul asked. He was still looking around the spaceship, stopping every now in then to touch something or just examine it. I flashed back to when Paul and I met. He had that boyish curiosity again. I hadn’t seen it for a while.

“I dare say that it is going to be quite a rescue attempt. You’ll need your wits about you boys!” Without so much as a warning The Doctor shoved a lever we, excluding the insane, crazy, alien, Time Lord, fell flat on our faces. I heard Paul scream. Or was it George? It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad they couldn’t see me. I’m holding on for dear life to the floor of the spaceship. This guy is a worse driver than me… even though I’m a great driver.

“Hang on! I’ll stabilize.” I saw The Doctor run around to the other side of the console and yank on anther control that looked and sounded like a gear shift. Thankfully, it made the shaking stop. I pushed myself over on my back and was greeted with a hand from The Doctor. 

“Sorry, Mr. Lennon. It’s a little rough for beginners. You’ll get used to it. Travelling through the vortex is a bit rough. Well let’s get on with it!” He’s gotta stop calling us misters and God forbid, sir. 

“You can just call us by our first names, you know. And please, spare us, don’t call Paul ‘sir’, he’s already got a big head as it is. We don’t want to stroke it.” Oh, man. Paul might actually kill me. He’s gone red.   
The Doctor laughed heartily. “If you insist Mr…err…John. George. Ringo. Paul. Oh, Paul, I really didn’t mean to laugh.” Please, come on. Don’t fall for it Doctor. We’ve barely even met him and Paul’s already charmed his way in.

“It’s not you. It’s John.” There’s the bitch-face again.

“Well, okay.” The Doctor faltered under the natural tension between me ‘n’ Paul. “We’re going to a planet called Pearlaxia VII. Our other companion is there. Or should be anyway.” Nice change of subject. I probably should talk to Paul to make sure his knickers aren’t in a twist. But, first, who is this other person?

“Arnd whro’s our outher persom?” George mumbled through a mouthful of food. And why isn’t he sharing?

“My wife.” The Doctor replied as if that was the most normal thing to say. George spit his food all over Ringo. When I said sharing, I didn’t mean like that. 

“Your wife?” Paul wondered and rightfully so. You don’t put up information like that, mate! I only wonder what makes her so special that just by adding her we’re complete.   
The Doctor shook his head. “River Song. It’s complicated. But I warn you, she can be a bit provocative.” Provocative? I wonder what he means?

“Is she nice? I mean…” Ringo asked curiously. Ringo’s a good person. We don’t deserve him.

“Personally, I find her very charming. It’s up to you, however, you need to watch out for yourselves, especially you two.” He pointed to me ‘n’ Paul. Okay. That’s not concerning. I don’t know how to take that. Why not George and Ringo? 

I’m gonna ask. “Why not George and Ringo?” I heard some collective ‘yeahs’. They sound offended.

The Doctor blushed. “Well, you see, George…Ringo, you’re not really her…uh…type.” Type? Is she going to flirt with us? I thought she’s his wife. 

He continued as if he read my mind. “We’re married, but we are by no means committed. We love each other, sure, but seeing one another is a bit complicated. A story for another time I’m afraid. Don’t worry though.” I shrugged. I guess being flirted with isn’t a bad thing. Paul seems a little quiet. I think I’ll talk to him.

“Alright, Paulie?”

Paul raised an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, I’m good. Just still a little shocked by it all.” All I could do is shake my head. I agree with him. Now, I’m not one for intimates, but I reached down and held his hand. It made him relax. We all deal with stress in different ways. George eats his feelings, Ringo drums (imagine that), I get angry and drink (a lot), and Paul enjoys a hug or a soft touch. Anyway, Paul’s more at ease now, which is a relief. He even gave me a small smile. He leaned his head onto my shoulder which I gladly returned by putting my head on his. We’re cute. We can’t help it.

We stayed like this for a while until The Doctor shouted at us, “We’re here!”

I swear Paul and I can read each other’s minds. I just glanced, thinking, are you ok, at him and he replied, “Yeah. Thanks, Johnny.” I gave him a smile as The Doctor put on what I thought were the parking brakes. He ran to the doors with us in tow behind him. The Doctor had boundless energy. I mean, we do too, but not like that.

“Whoa, there. You’ve got to stay in the TARDIS, lads. This planet is a bit too, ah, I’ll go with dangerous, for you.” The Doctor ordered, unfairly. We came to get a change of scenery. I’m not going to let some posh Time Lord order me around. 

I frowned. “Hang on, I thought we were gonna help you, not be kept in your box. Don’t lie to us, Doctor.”

The Doctor obviously didn’t want us to be upset, he seemed rather disappointed. “We’re only making a stop here, John, and then I promise you’ll see somewhere other than the TARDIS. I don’t plan to be long. I just hope River hasn’t gotten herself into trouble. Anyway. Stay here. Please.” With that, The Doctor left the spaceship. Left us.

I looked around to my mates. “The first planet we come to and we’re stuck in the damn spaceship.” I just want to explore, not be stuck in another room.

“Maybe we should just stay here, John. We don’t know this place.” Ringo countered. He may be right, but we’ve been loads of places we don’t know and run off. I guess he doesn’t remember that night in New York…

George came to the rescue, “Come on, Rings! Live a little. We’ve been fine before.” 

“I don’t know, guys. The Doctor…” Ringo tried to protest but, believe it or not, Paul cut him off.

“Sod The Doctor! Let’s go out.” Yes! Two out of three.

“Come on, boys! To the toppermost of the poppermost!” I grabbed Ringo by the coat and dragged him off. We reached the doors and pulled them open.


	5. And Your Bird Can Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Five which has not been proofread so I apologize. My proofreader's been a little busy lately. Again, I don't own The Beatles, Doctor Who, and specifically for this chapter: Carl Perkins or Chuck Berry. Story line and OCs are mine. Thanks for sticking around! This one's a tad longer than the others.

This place we’ve gone is fantastic. Something like out of our comic books. I can’t believe The Doctor would keep this from us. I could see about three different planets (or maybe moons) in the sky. One blue, one purple, and the other a hazy maroon. And the stars. God, they’re stunning. You don’t see them like that in England. Sure, these stars aren’t our own, but they’re different in a magnificent sort of way.

              When I looked back down, we were getting all sorts of odd looks. I guess that’s because we’re not purple. All of the people, err, aliens, are purple. Well, technically we’re the aliens. Women, children, men, and even the pets. I just had to keep looking around. Everything seemed so normal here and that we are the strange ones, not the other way ‘round.

              The four of us walked down a road which paralleled a market of some sort. The aliens were selling their goods. We stop and look at a few things. One booth caught our eye specifically. I dragged the others to what looked like musical instruments. George protested against leaving the food tables. I seriously can’t believe he’s hungry again.

              “Hey Paulie! Look at this thing.” I motioned to a guitar-like instrument. I wonder if the chords are the same?

              “It looks like a guitar. Is it?” He looked at me. As if I know?

              “It’s a stinger, my, um, things.” A man (purple of course) stepped from behind a row of what resembled maracas.

              “It looks like a guitar…” George said flatly. Paul stepped on his foot in an attempt to make him behave. Did you know Paul is also our mother?

              “I’m afraid I don’t know of any ‘guitar’, but I can assure you this is one of the finest instruments around. Guaranteed to give you the sound. Why don’t you try it, my...my…thing?” He handed George the faux-guitar who handled it with care. Paul (mother goose) shot him a look of concern. George shrugged and strummed a few chords. It sounded like a guitar. Same chords and everything.

              “Hey! Gear! It’s exactly like a guitar.” George exclaimed. He handed it back to the owner.

“My, my. You can really play well.” Somethings wrong about the way he said that. I’m suspicious. I thought I saw the man press something under the table. But given my eyesight, I’m not too sure. Either way, I think we need to get away from him.

              “We all can.” Paul said defiantly. Dammit, Paul, why so bloody proud? Oh, that’s right. He’s my best mate.

              “Is that right?” The man’s eyes lit up mischievously. That’s my cue to leave. I don’t like that look.

              “Uh…well. We’re just leaving, sir.”

              “Oh, but please, won’t you try our low stringer?” He pleaded. Fuck. It looks like a bass.

              “Johnny, look! It’s a bass.” Come on, Paul!

              “Mmm? Yeah, Paul. It’s gear. I’ve think I’ve seen everything I want to,” out of the corner of my eye I saw several unfriendly purple men come towards us, “And, uh…run, lads!” I took off glad that the others followed me. I felt bad as I pushed the people (aliens) down to get down the street back to the TARDIS. Unfortunately, because we’re The Beatles, Ringo fell, tripping Paul who then tripped George. I grabbed under Paul’s armpits to hoist him back up when I heard, ‘there they are!’.

              “Get up, guys! Come on!” I yelled. I threw Paul forward right into a man I hadn’t seen standing there. He grabbed Paul who cried out with a yelp.

              Several men surrounded us. “Pearlaxia Protection! Stay where you are.”

              Shit. Shit, shit, shit, _shit_. They’re gonna kill me. It’ll be The Beatles minus John Lennon. We put our hands up. The men shifted uncomfortably as we did this. Must not be a custom here.

              “I’m afraid we’ll have to detain you until a price for your freedom can be paid.” I didn’t go calmly. I shouted obscenities at them. It certainly didn’t make them happy. They took us to a jail cell right in the middle of the town. Where everyone can see us.

              “Is this the jail?” Ringo asked as innocently as he could. Even trying the McCartney puppy dog eyes trick. The officer, unfazed, pushed us into the cell.

              “Of course it’s the jail you daft git!” I blurted out. I didn’t mean it of course, nevertheless, Ringo was hurt. I attempted to apologize but Saint Paul beat me.

              “He didn’t mean it, Ritchie. _We_ should be yelling at him, he got us here in the first place.” Way to drag me and kick me while I’m down, Paul.

              “Yeah, well, it seemed to me, Paul, that you didn’t object. You neither, George!” I retorted. I am regretting not listening to The Doctor, but I’m sure as hell not letting Paul ‘I’ve got a silver spoon up my ass’ McCartney know that.

              “It’s no use fighting, Sweeties.” A soothing woman’s voice rang from the cell next to ours. I turned to locate her and my eyes found a very attractive older woman. Her hair curled anywhere and everywhere and her eyes just shone absolute confidence. Maybe. If I wasn’t 24.

              “And who are you?” Paul wondered not doing the best hiding his infatuation. Neither are George and Ringo. She’s a woman.

              She laughed and God was it attractive. “I’m Professor Song. You can just call me River. But that’s no matter. I need to know if you can pay for your freedom and mine.” Shit, that’s The Doctor’s wife. Why’s she looking at Ringo? Hah, The Doctor was wrong. Apparently our dear Ringo is exactly River’s type. At least she seems to think so. I can’t help but laugh. Ringo is completely flustered.

              “Unfortunately, ma’am, we don’t have any money with us.” Paul said with a shrug.

              “Well, don’t you know, sweetie? The currency here isn’t money.” River gripped the bars of the cell.

              “Well, then what is it?” Ringo asked. Brave, Ringo. She’ll eat you alive.

              “Well, love,” River smiled at Ringo, who turned red again, “On Pearlaxia, the currency is music.”

              “Music?” I looked up from my hands, “Seriously? Well, you’ll be happy to know we play music for a living.” Well, convenient. I guess that explains why that salesman had so much interest in us. I assume we just have to play ourselves out. River too, of course.

              “Council! Council! I have my payment!” River called out suddenly.

              The man who locked us up approached our cage. “Where is it?”

              “Right here council.” She waved her hand to us.

              “We want to play for our freedom and Professor Song.” I demanded, my confidence returning. Apparently, music is universal and music is something I can do.

              “You four can pay?” The council asked skeptically.

              “We certainly can! Just give us some instruments and we’ll play you something.” Paul added enthusiastically. The council squinted his eyes at us before motioning to one of his mates. They brought over a container-type thing on wheels. Another of the purple men let us out. Ringo pulled his drumsticks out from his coat and received a seductive look from River. I almost felt bad for him.

              “Hey, Johnny,” Paul whispered, “they’ve even got one for lefties.” He lifted up a strange looking guitar. Probably a bass. He plucked a few strings to check that all the chords are there and that it’s in tune.

              “Sounds good, Paulie,” I affirmed him, “I think we’re ready. Let’s show ‘em.” Paul smiled and we positioned ourselves in front of Ringo.

              “What’re we doing, Johnny.” Ringo called out.

              “A little ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ if you please, Ringo. Ready, Paulie? Georgie?” I prompted. On Paul’s count we began our payment.

                             _It’s been a hard day’s night_

_And I’ve been working like a dog._

_It’s been a hard day’s night_

_I should be sleeping like a log._

_But when I get home to you_

_I find the things that you do_

_Will make me feel alright._

Receptive so far. We’ve got a crowd.

                             _You know I work all day_

_To make you money to buy you things_

_And it’s worth it to hear you say_

_You’re going to give me everything._

_So why on earth should I moan_

_‘cos when I get you alone_

_You know I feel okay._

              I see some swaying. That’s good. I hope. Enter Paulie.

                             _When I’m home everything seems to be right._

_When I’m home, feeling you holding me tight_

_Tight, yeah!_

Smiles! Dancing! I guess we’re pretty good even in the middle of outer space.

                             _It’s been a hard day’s night_

_I’ve been working like a dog._

_It’s been a hard day’s night._

_I should be sleeping like a log._

_But when I get home to you_

_I find the things that you do_

_Will make me feel alright, ow!_

I think I see The Doctor. He’s clapping along and pointing at us. Hopefully that’s good.

                             _So why on earth should I moan_

_‘cos when I get you alone_

_You know I feel okay._

Let’s finish it out, boys.

                             _When I’m home everything seems to be right_

_When I’m home feeling you holding me tight,_

_Tight, yeah!_

_It’s been a hard day’s night_

_And I’ve been working like a dog_

_It’s been a hard day’s night_

_And I should be sleeping like a log_

_But when I get home to you_

_I find the things that you do_

_Will make me feel alright._

_You know I feel alright_

_You know I feel alright._

And end.

              “Your performance has bought you the freedom of two of you. More is needed to free Professor Song and the remaining two.” The council decreed amongst the people who cheered. Honestly it could be worse. We could be dead. Or tortured.

              “Well. George?” I faced our guitar player. “ _Roll Over Beethoven_?”

George nodded and stepped forward. “A little Earth classic for you, then.” He played the first notes, shocking the crowd with his shuffle and expert playing. George really isn’t the best singer out of all of us but he does have charisma on stage. They call him the ‘quiet’ Beatle. They’re very much mistaken. George could talk (or bite it off given the mood) your ear off given the moment. He’s slowly gaining speed to being a fantastic musician on his own. I’m just glad he’s with us.

It’s different here. We can actually hear ourselves. The audience is clapping and having a good time, but they’re not screaming. It’s refreshing.

              _Well early in the mornin’_

_I’m a givin’ you the warning_

_Don’t you step on my blue suede shoes_

_Hey little, little_

_Gonna play my fiddle_

_Ain’t got nothin’ to lose_

_Roll over Beethoven_

_And tell Tchaikovsky the news._

George is finishing up his number and it seems like everyone is watching us. It’s a pretty good feeling. I’m enjoying playing again. If we need another, we may have Ringo sing a tune. Let him be River’s knight.

We hit the last chord and located the council who nodded approvingly. “It’ll take more to get Professor Song, I’m afraid. She has committed one of the most horrific crimes.” Whoa, ho. Horrific crimes?

“And what horrific crimes are these?” Paul placed one hand on his hip and the other on his instrument.

“She attempted to steal our most sacred song.” The purple council man actually sneered at River. Not very menacing, really, being purple and all. But, how can you steal a song. I mean there’s plagiarism, but for some reason I’m not so certain that’s what he’s talking about. Oh, right. It’s because we’re on a fucking alien planet.

“I wasn’t trying to steal it. I wanted to study it. I’ve told you.” River defended, “how much more is needed to pay my freedom?”

“Depends. How much are these players willing to pay?” The purple council member gazed at us one by one.

“As much as it takes.” Ringo answered confidently to which he received a loving smile from River. Shit, Ringo’s eating this up. He likes being the one hit on this time. The short fucker.

“Well, then, Ringo. How about you lead, then.” I prompted. If he wants to be all flirtatious and outgoing, then fine by me. I’m just gonna remind him of this for the next concert. And maybe for the next few years.

“I’ll do it.” Ringo drummed a little on my back with his drumsticks. Cheeky bastard. George counted us off into Carl Perkins’ _Honey Don’t._ Ringo drums away with that classic shake of his head. For some reason, these people _really_ like him. Like, they’re cheering now. They certainly didn’t for me ‘n’ Paul and not for George. Maybe we warmed them up and Ringo’s just another ingredient. Hell, I’ll let him have this one.

              _Well, I love you, baby, and you ought to know_

_I like the way that you wear your clothes_

_Everything about you is so doggone sweet_

_You got that sand all over your feet_

_So aw, aw_

_Well, honey don’t._

That randy fucker. He’s singing to River. I hope The Doctor throws him off the space ship.

As he finished up his number, I lean over to Paul. “What’s The Doctor’s face look like? Is he mad? Jealous?”

“He’s smiling. And doing what I assume is a form of dancing. It looks awful. Worse than Ringo’s.”

I chuckle and play the last note. Paul waves and winks at the audience. I glance expectantly at the council. I hope to God we’re done. I want to get out of here.

“I’m sorry, but it’s still not enough.” The council announces. Well, shit. I’ll sick Paul on him.

“Paulie.” I whispered. “Hey, Paulie.”

“What?”

“ _I Saw Her Standing There.”_

Paul giggled and drew out, “Oh-hoh-kay.” He adjusted his guitar before counting out “1-2-3-4!”

              _Well she was just seventeen_

_You know what I mean_

And that was it. The crowd turned into our fans. The screaming so loud that we couldn’t hear ourselves. I rolled my eyes towards Paul who had a slight frightened expression on his face as he continued to sing. His voice faltering slightly.

              _Well my heart went “boom”_

_When I crossed that room_

_And I held her hand in mine._

I followed his line of sight to the crowd (still screaming) and realized what he meant. It looked like a full on orgy. These aliens were releasing a bright yellow aura with expressions of ecstasy. I have to say, it started when Paul did his “Little Richard” scream. I mean I’ve seen what it does to the birds back home but, this…this was new.

We ended the song to the crowd, now silent and not glowing. It was eerie. They were just staring at us. I shifted my eyes towards The Doctor who seemed to be gesturing something to us.

“Paul, what’s he on about?”

“Telling us to just stand here.” Paul answered without taking his eyes off the crowd. This is getting creepy now. I’ll take the screaming over this any day.

“I think,” the council coughed, “I think we can release her. Thank you for your payment.” The crowd dispersed. Just like that. They walked away and continued doing what they were doing. I have never seen likes of it. The council sauntered to the makeshift stage we’re on.

He made his way over to Paul. “My, I have never heard such a glorious noise before. What do you call yourself?” Glorious noise? I had to snort. George and Ringo giggled in the background.

Paul reddened from the obviously embarrassing statement. “Uhm. Paul.” Usually, Paul doesn’t falter upon receiving complements, but ‘glorious noise’ seemed to change that. I’m never forgetting that.

The council placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Well, Paul, what a strange name. I guess it comes with not being from here. I suppose I can’t ask you to stay.” To stay? No fucking way is that asshole taking Paulie.

“He’s not going anywhere. We’re a package deal.” I sneered. I had to take to moment to realize what I’d said. “Not that we’re staying. We’re worth way more than you could ever imagine to pay.” The council seemed to be intrigued by me now.

“And you? Who are you?” he asked.

“John fucking Lennon.” I couldn’t help but spit out at the guy. He was pissing me off, now. My callousness went unnoticed by him.

“What about the others? You won’t stay? We’d give you anything you want.” The council’s voice turned almost snake-like. George shook his head.

Ringo scoffed. “Ringo here. Johnny’s right. You couldn’t afford us. Anyways, our manager’d put up a fight.” Paul slung off his guitar and set it down backing up towards me a little bit. Some of the purple aliens started approaching us slowly.

“George!” I heard Paul yell. He and Ringo have gathered closely around me. George wasn’t paying attention at all. Once looking in our direction and realized what was going on he took off the instrument and ran over to us. We backed up together. I do not want to stay on this planet. I tried to find the blurry outline of The Doctor but couldn’t. River wasn’t in the jail cell anymore. I had begun to think The Doctor had left us.

That is until I heard him yell, “Beatles!”


	6. Run For Your Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own The Beatles or Doctor Who. This chapter wasn't read over, so if there are any glaring mistakes... oops.

              That was it. The purple people started chasing us. More running, great. I should feel terrified that my life’s in danger. Nope. Our fans are probably just as bloodthirsty, waiting for their slice of a Beatle. I’m just glad that Paul’s there to guide me. I probably would’ve fallen, captured, and then eaten. Well, probably not eaten.

              We’re running as fast as we can behind The Doctor and River Song. I’m trusting The Doctor knows where we are and where the spaceship is. I want to say I hate this, but I’m enjoying myself. Definitely a change of action. For better or for worse, I don’t know. I tighten my grip on Paul’s hand as we’re snaked through the labyrinth of streets and stalls. I’m actually sweating, which is a change. It’s not hard to out run teenage girls. Purple aliens, not so much.

              I think I can see the outline of the TARDIS when George yells from behind “Ringo!” When we look back, George has been grabbed by a lone purple guy. He must have been hiding in one of the stalls. The alien has a gun pointed at George’s back.

              “Let him go!” Ringo yells and takes a few steps forward.

              “Take any more steps and I’ll do it.” The alien threatens with a slight poke to George’s side with the barrel of the gun. Next thing I see is River step forward and stand next to Ringo, who by the way, has puffed his chest all puffed out, trying to be all masculine. It’s admirable, really.

              River draws her own gun, or at least I think it’s a gun. “Let’s see who’s a better shot, then, hm?”

              “Now, can we please put the guns away. I really don’t like them.” The Doctor walks to the other side of Ringo. Ringo has since deflated and is now shifting awkwardly. Not as brave when the husband’s around, eh Ringo?

              “She puts hers away, then I’ll put mine away.” The alien demanded with a nod toward River. She, however, glances at The Doctor. The Doctor’s eyes widened at the eye contact. He pulls out another gun. No, I doubt it. It must be something else. It has a green tip on the end with a gold and silver handle. He’s got it pointed at the purple guy. Once he presses the button on it, it lights up with a slight buzzing sound. The guy’s gun then pops right out of his hand with a sizzle. The alien’s eyes electric green eyes grew wide. He pushed George towards us and ran off in the opposite direction. Ringo caught George before he fell into the ground. George thanked him with a nod.

              The Doctor pocketed his glowing noise stick. “Well, that’s our cue to leave, boys. Now.” Agreed. We took off in the direction of the TARDIS.

              Once securely locking ourselves in I held onto the railings at the entrance. I blew out exhaustive air and proceeded to laugh. Just really laugh. Paul’s giggling too now. It’s infectious cause I’ve now got Ringo and George doubled over as well. The Doctor and River are just staring at us. And for good reason, we look like mad men, cackling like we are. But come on! It was a thrill. We met purple aliens on a planet which deals in _music_. It’s fantastic. I’m, we’re, having the time of our lives.

              “Care to share what’s so funny?” River put her hands on her hips.

              “It was exciting!” I exclaimed through separated chuckles. “You don’t understand. Our lives are so hectic in its own sense but being chased by randy teenage girls becomes boring after a while, you know? Actually being chased by people who want to kill us with swords and cosmic guns is incredible!” I’m not insane. Really, I’m not.

              “You’re laughing because you might have gotten killed?” River questioned. She didn’t look at me like I was crazy, but rather like she understood. She smiled at us.

              I returned her understanding smile with a sad one. “You’ve got to keep an open mind about this stuff, you know. You keep all that anger and fear inside. It’ll tear you up. I learned that. Paul learned that.” I glanced over at Paul who looked down at his hands. He knows what I mean. We both lost our mothers. Paul before me, but it still stung the same. Paul walked me through the pain, through the tears and the guilt. I pushed him and he pushed back. I don’t think I would’ve made it if it wasn’t for him. I’m getting sentimental. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

              The Doctor patted it. “We all understand sorrow, John. And you’re right.” I think I get now why I saw guilt in his eyes. I could feel it heavy on my shoulder, the weight of a thousand.

              “Uh, let’s lighten up a bit guys.” Ringo pleaded and I get it. The mood in here has dropped. George is fulfilling his role as the ‘quiet’ one. He hasn’t said a word. He did almost get shot. He must have finally realized that.

              “Right!” The Doctor jubilated, “River. Amy and Rory were taken right from the TARDIS. I don’t know anything. They disappeared.”

              “Well, did you see anything when it happened?” River asked to which The Doctor responded with technical nonsense I didn’t understand. I left the couple and met with George and Ringo who were in the middle of a card game. Somehow, Ringo’d convinced George to play. Paul sat opposite George, peeking at Ringo’s cards, just trying to give George subtle clues. George is completely clueless. He missed every one and was effectively getting his ass kicked by Ringo. Again.

              “I warned ya, son.” I patted George’s slouched and slightly defeated back. You just don’t play with Ringo unless you want to lose your week’s pay.

              “Shut up, Johnny, I’m tryin’ to concentrate.” George sneered.

              “Oi, watch it Georgie. You _nearly_ scared me.” I chided back. Paul chuckled and winked at me. At least he’s in a better mood now. I situated myself next to him.

              “Anything you want to do beside watch these two idiots?”

              “Actually, I wanna see how big this place is, you know? I was gonna ask The Doctor about it. Maybe we can wander off. They’ll never notice.” Paul schemed. He’s right. The Doctor and River are deep in discussion (it even looks like a lover’s quarrel) and George and Ringo are occupied. Now’s our chance.

              I looked at the other parties. “Come on, this way.” I pulled Paul towards the closest archway to us. We found ourselves in corridors leading every which way. We chose another hallway three down from the exit to the main part of the spaceship. I’m in shock. This place is massive. We’ve passed several rooms but haven’t gone in.

              I stop. “Hey, how about we go in here.” I pointed at the random door on my left. Paul shrugged urging me on. I pushed on the door slightly and It opened with a light hiss. Paul rolled to the balls of his feet to get a better look over my shoulder. He gasped. I immediately started searching around in my pockets to find my glasses. I obviously wasn’t seeing what Paul was. Where are they? Fuck. I know I didn’t leave them back – hah – back in 1964. Right. The top of my head. Nope. Not there. Where the hell…

              “Macca!” I yelled.

              “What?”

              “Give me my glasses, you prick.” Paul crinkled his nose and huffed. I held out my hand for him to put my glasses.

              “I don’t know why you get like that. It’s not like you ever wear them.”

              “Okay, Mimi!” I growled, slapping the glasses on my face, “I’ll use them when I need them.”

              Paul snorted. “In all seriousness, John, you really do look good in them. I’m not just saying that. I mean it. You look like a stud!” Paul wiggled his eyebrows playfully at me.

              “Git.” I smiled and looked up. We were in the biggest library I have ever seen. Now I understand Paul’s reaction.

              “Shit. This is huge. I wonder what’s here?” I walked slowly towards one of the stacks. They lined both sides from floor to ceiling. Just fantastic.

              “Hey, John. C’mere.” Paul summoned with an unusually soft voice. He stared at a rather large book on a pedestal which read “Time War” in large letters.

              “Macca, I’ve got a feeling we shouldn’t open that.” I said. The book had a feeling attached to it that I couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. Paul didn’t argue and backed away from it.

              “Let’s get outta here, John.” Paul sounded nervous and shaky. I haven’t seen that since we were teenagers. We made our way back to the door when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Someone’s there. Behind us. Paul grabbed my sleeve and pulled before I had a chance to look back. We ran back the way we came, at least what we thought was the way back. It just so happens that Paul and I got hopelessly lost in the maze. More and more passageways appeared just to confuse us even more.

               Eventually Paul gave up with an exasperated half-growl/half-yell, “Gah! I’m going insane, John. How do we get out of here! We’re probably so far in, The Doctor won’t be able to find us. We’re gonna die in here, John.” What a drama queen.

              “We are not going to die in here, princess Paulie. I’m sure they’re looking for us now. You can calm down.” I tried to reason, when really, I’m fucking scared shitless. I really don’t know if anyone is looking for us.

              “Come on…” I pull Paul by the wrist, dragging him down a corridor on the left. I still feel like we’re being watched. Something really isn’t right.

              “Hold on, John!” Paul exclaimed, “I need a break it seems like we’ve been running for hours.” I place a hand on Paul’s shoulders and look around. I’m really scared.

              “Come on, Paul…” I begged. Paul shook his head and took off. After a left, a right, a right, another left…shit. We’re lost in a fucking spaceship. When we finally hit a dead end, Paul scraped his hands across the wall to find a handle. No luck. I gave up and let my head rest against the wall and closed my eyes. Might as well just stay here until someone finds us or we die. I’m hoping for the former. Paul slid down to sit on the floor. I was about to do the same when a voice boomed around us.

              “So easily The Doctor discards his companions.”

              “John, luv, please tell me you heard that.” Paul whimpered from his spot on the ground.

              “Yep.”

              “Should we run?”

              “Probably.”

              I yanked Paul up and took off, not caring where we went. Adrenaline burst through my system and I didn’t feel a thing. I just ran.

              “Paul, you okay?” I rested my hands on my knees. “Paul?” Shit. Fuck. Where’s Paul. I spun around on my heels calling Paul’s name, drowned in worry. I nervously ran my fingers through my hair.

              “We’ve got him.” The voice we were running from boomed loud again.

              “What’re you doing with him? Give him back!” I screamed at the air like a child who lost his toy. My voice carried through the empty corridors. To anyone else, I’d look like a madman.

              “Oh, don’t you worry, human. You’re coming too. We sense a chemical release between you two. It is never our intention to separate lovers.”

              Hang on. What? Before I could dignify that with an answer everything went black.


End file.
